David and Leigh Eddings – Belgarath the Sorcerer

bad temper, but why bother? Arendia was starting to bore me anyway,

and I’ve been chased out of a lot of places in my time, so one more

wasn’t going to make that much difference.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I crossed the River Arend, the traditional border between Arendia and

Tolnedra, early one morning in late spring. The north bank of the

river was patrolled by Mimbrate knights, of course, but that wasn’t

really any problem. I do have certain advantages, after all.

I paused for a time in the Forest of Vordue to give some thought to my

situation. When my Master had roused me from my drunken stupor back in

Camaar, he hadn’t really given me any instructions, so I was more or

less on my own. There wasn’t anyplace I really had to go, and no

particular urgency about getting there. I still felt my

responsibilities, however. I suppose I was what you might call a

disciple emeritus, a vagabond sorcerer wandering around poking my nose

into things that were probably none of my business. If I happened to

come across anything significant, I could pass it on to my brothers

back in the Vale. Aside from that, I was free to wander wherever I

chose. My grief hadn’t really diminished, but I was learning to live

with it and to keep it rather tightly controlled. The years in Camaar

had taught me the futility of trying to hide from it.

And so, filled with a kind of suppressed melancholy, I set off toward

Tol Honeth. As long as I was here anyway, I thought I might as well

find out what the empire was up to.

There was a certain amount of political maneuvering going on in the

Grand Duchy of Vordue as I passed through on my way south. The Honeths

were in power again, and the Vordue family always took that as a

personal affront. There were abundant signs that the Second Honethite

Dynasty was in its twilight. That’s a peculiar thing about dynasties

in any of the world’s kingdoms. The founder of a dynasty is usually

vigorous and gifted, but as the centuries roll by, his successors

become progressively less so. The fact that they almost invariably

marry their cousins might have something to do with it. Controlled

inbreeding might work out all right with horses and dogs and cattle,

but when it comes to humans, keeping it in the family’s not a good

idea. Bad traits will breed true the same as good ones will, and

stupidity seems to float to the surface a lot faster than courage or

brilliance.

At any rate, the Honethite Emperors had been going downhill for the

past century or so, and the Vorduvians were slavering with

anticipation, feeling that their turn on the throne was just around the

corner.

It was early summer when I reached Tol Honeth. Since it was their

native city, the Honethite Emperors had devoted much of their time-and

most of the imperial treasury–to improving the capital. Any time the

Honeths are in power in Tolnedra, an investment in marble quarries will

yield handsome returns.

I crossed the north bridge to the city and paused at the gate to answer

the perfunctory questions of the legionnaires standing guard there.

Their armor was very impressive, but they weren’t. I made a mental

note of the fact that the legions seemed to be getting badly out of

condition. Somebody was going to have to do something about that.

The streets were crowded. The streets of Tol Honeth always are.

Everybody in Tolnedra who thinks he’s important gravitates to the

capital.

Proximity to the seat of power is very important to certain kinds of

people.

In a roundabout sort of way I was a religious personage, so, as I had

in Arendia, I went looking for a church. The main temple of Nedra had

been moved since I’d last been in Tol Honeth, so I had to ask

directions. I knew better than to ask any of the richly dressed

merchant princes passing by with perfumed handkerchiefs held to their

noses and haughty expressions on their faces. Instead, I found an

honest man replacing broken cobblestones.

“Tell me, friend,” I said to him, “which way should I go to reach the

Temple of Nedra?”

“It’s over on the south side of the Imperial Palace,” he replied.

“Go on down to the end of this street and turn left.” He paused and

squinted at me.

“You’ll need money to get in,” he advised me.

“Oh?”

“It’s a new custom. You have to pay the priest at the door to get

inside–and pay another priest to get near the altar.”

“Peculiar notion.”

“This is Tol Honeth, friend. Nothing’s free here, and the priests are

just as greedy as everybody else.”

“I think I can come up with something they’d rather have than money.”

“I wouldn’t make any large wagers on that. Good luck.”

“I think you dropped something there, friend,” I told him, pointing at

the large copper Tolnedran penny I’d just conjured up and dropped on

the stones by his left knee. He had been helpful, after all.

He quickly snatched up the penny–probably the equivalent of a day’s

wages–and looked around furtively.

“Be happy in your work,” I told him, and moved off down the street.

The Temple of Nedra was like a palace, an imposing marble structure

that exuded all the warmth of a mausoleum. The common people prayed

outside in little niches along the wall. The inside was reserved for

the people who could afford to pay the bribes.

“I need to talk with the High Priest,” I told the clergyman guarding

the huge door.

He looked me up and down disdainfully.

“Absolutely out of the question. You should know better than even to

ask.”

“I didn’t ask. I told you. Now go fetch him–or get out of my way and

I’ll find him myself.”

“Get away from here.”

“We’re not getting off to a good start here, friend. Let’s try it

again. My name’s Belgarath, and I’m here to see the High Priest.”

“Belgarath?” He laughed sardonically.

“There’s no such person. Go away.”

I trans located him to a spot several hundred yards up the street and

marched inside. I was definitely going to have words with the High

Priest about this practice of charging admission to a place of worship;

not even Nedra would have approved of that. The temple was crawling

with priests, and each one seemed to have his hand out. I avoided

confrontations by the simple expedient of creating a halo, which I

cocked rather rakishly over one ear. I’m not certain if Tolnedran

theology includes a calendar of saints, but I did get the attention of

the priests–and their wholehearted cooperation. And I didn’t even

have to pay for it.

The High Priest’s name was Arthon, and he was a paunchy man in an

elaborately jeweled robe. He took one look at my halo and greeted me

with a certain apprehensive enthusiasm. I introduced myself, and he

became very nervous. It wasn’t really any of my business that he was

violating the rules, but I saw no reason to let him know that.

“We’ve heard about your adventures in Mallorea, Holy Belgarath,” he

gushed at me.

“Did you really kill Torak?”

“Somebody’s been spinning moonbeams for you, Arthon,” I replied.

“I’m not the one who’s supposed to do that. We just went there to

recover something that’d been stolen.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

“To what do we owe the honor of your visit, Ancient One?”

I shrugged.

“Courtesy. I was passing through, and I thought I ought to look in on

you. Has anyone heard from Nedra?”

“Our God has departed, Belgarath,” he reminded me.

“All the Gods have departed, Arthon. They do have ways to keep in

touch, though. Belar spoke to Riva in a dream, and Aldur came to me

the same way no more than a couple of months ago. Pay attention to

your dreams. They might be significant.”

“I did have a peculiar dream about six months ago,” he recalled.

“It seemed that Nedra spoke to me.”

“What did he say?”

“I forget now. I think it had something to do with money.”

“Doesn’t it always?” I thought about it for a moment.

“It probably involved this new custom of yours. I don’t think Nedra

would approve of the practice of charging admission to the temple. He’s

the God of all Tolnedrans, not just the ones who can afford to buy

their way into your church.”

A wave of consternation crossed his face.

“But–” he started to protest.

“I’ve seen some of the creatures who live in Hell, Arthon,” I told him

quite firmly.

“You don’t want to spend any time with them. It’s up to you, though.

What’s happening here in Tolnedra?”

“Oh, not too much, Belgarath.” He said it just a bit evasively, and I

could almost smell what he was trying to hide.

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